Posted by: carolyn / through a widow's eyes | September 4, 2011

a dream: no talk of love

i am in Europe?, an exotic locale, there for a meeting, something important.

i should have been at the airport already but it is too late.
i don’t care.
i am in a strange apartment, clean and modern
lots of shoes?  for some reason, in that odd way of dreams
M. is there, with some others.
we are lovers
through our clothes somehow
my face in the pillow, him behind me
it is glorious
i am happy
i don’t remember being happy
there is no talk of love.
i say to him many serious things about gratitude and friendship
ending with
“you can come over; we can do this
once a month,
whether we need it or not.”
– the funny tagline Jeff’s father used to say about shaving,
when he was an old man and shaved only for church-
then suddenly i am awake
and i don’t remember waking.
i don’t remember being rested.


  1. Carolyn, I have just finished reading your entire blog. You write so beautifully. I have been so touched by your words…and your ability to describe exactly how you (and I) feel. Thank you. It has been 15 months for me and still incredibly painful.


    • Gene, thank you so much for reading and for writing back! When I hear that other people can relate to something I’ve said it makes me feel like I am accomplishing something rather than sitting here and opening vein after vein just to indulge myself. Thank you.


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